


Emotions

by Vegorott



Series: Darkstache One-Shots [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, dark has no control over emotions, some cute angst, wilford being wilford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 05:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vegorott/pseuds/Vegorott
Summary: Annoyance. Frustration. Anger. Emotions that Dark understands and can easily work with, but when he starts to learn about the other ones he has, things being to change.





	Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> I had this sudden idea for a story when I was writing Attention with how I wrote Dark's personification of his emotions. I hope you enjoy!

Dark adjusted his tie in the hallway’s full-length mirror. He felt nothing as he did so, he was just on auto-pilot. Dark was used to not feeling anything. That’s who he was. He was a demon. A creature from another dimension with the sole purpose of destroying the ones who have caused him harm, who have put him in this form in the first place. He had no time to deal with emotions. He had work to do.

After straightening his jacket he held his hands behind his back and left the hallway, heading to the kitchen since it was the connection between where he was and the library. He stopped when he saw the Jims on the kitchen floor. The reporter was messing with an Ouija board while the cameraman looked very scared and uncomfortable. 

“Demons, Jim!” The reporter shouted as he flailed his body into the air. Dark felt something press into the back of his head as the two stared at him before taking off, leaving the Ouija board behind with salt all over the ground as well. The pressure was still there as he cleaned up the twins’ mess. It was a feeling he was used to with the people he lived with.

_ Annoyance _ . 

“Hey, Dark! How’s my demon?” Wilford greeted loudly as he slapped at Dark’s back, seeing that the man had his sleeves rolled up as he washed the salt off of his hands. 

“We need to inform the Jims, once again, that salt will not make the demon go away. It only annoys him to a severe degree.” Dark growled as he turned off the sink. He nodded thanks as Wilford handed him a towel. 

“You know it’s not you that they’re trying to make leave, it’s the ‘ghost’ of the house.” Wilford chuckled, laughing a little more when Dark tossed the towel at him. 

“You really need to stop with your pranks on them. It’s a nuisance to everyone in the house.” Dark stated, returning his sleeves back to their proper place. 

“I just wanna have some fun with the chums.” Wilford leaned close to Dark and flashed a smile that made the demon feel a little warmth in his stomach. Dark never understood what that feeling was or what to assign the emotion with, he always assumed it was just nothing and he easily ignored the warmth before putting his hand on Wilford’s face and pushing him away.

“You can have fun without causing the Jims to constantly panic,” Dark said as he walked out of the room, the warmth returning a little when he head Wilford’s light-hearted laugh. 

Dark sat in the library, casually reading a mystery novel he ended picking up by mistake when he was searching for another. He found himself pulled into the fictional world and was reading a very climactic part when there was a loud ‘thud’ above him as if something was dropped. Dark looked up, sighed and returned to his reading, starting the page over so he could get back into the scene properly. He was about to learn who the killer was when there was another loud ‘thud’. This time Dark lowered the book and glared at the ceiling for a good while before going back to the book again, once again having to start over because he couldn’t just read the killer’s name without the build-up, it ruined the fun. Dark had started learning the killer’s motive when a long string of ‘thuds’ cut him off for the third time. Dark slammed the book shut and stormed out of the library and towards the stairs. There was a tight pinching in his stomach and head as he took the steps two at a time. This was an emotion he also knew very well.

_ Frustration _ . 

“What are you do-” Dark threw open the door to the room and stopped his yelling when he saw what was causing the sounds. Bim Trimmer was standing on his bed, wearing his white shirt, blazer, and tie, but missing the slacks that went the ensemble, showing off his white and red spotted boxers. The show host was holding a cardboard tube and the stuffed animals lying all around the room told Dark all that he needed to know. 

“I-”

“Nope.” Dark didn’t give Bim even a second to explain himself before he shut the door, turning away from it. He could feel his face burning up a little, along with his chest and stomach. This was something he rarely felt.

_ Embarrassment.  _

Dark wasn’t embarrassed himself, he felt embarrassment for Bim. He knew how awkward that had to be for the other man. Dark shook his head and headed back to the library. Why was he feeling embarrassed for Bim? Why was he wasting energy on feeling something for someone? He barely allowed himself to have emotions on his own, why have it for others? Wilford referred to it as ‘sympathy’ and Dark stated that it was a ‘waste of time’. Sympathy, empathy, who cares? No one cared for him, he shouldn’t care for others. It was as simple as that. 

“Dark! Dark!” Dark turned his head and saw that the Jims were running towards him. 

“Don’t you have some news to report or something?” Dark sighed, feeling annoyance come back and taking over what remained of the second-hand embarrassment.

“Wilford left!” Reporter Jim yelled. 

“Wilford can leave when he wishes.” 

“He took his shooty!” 

“He takes his gun everywhere.”

“He was mad!” That statement made Dark stiffen. He knew what it meant when Wilford left angry. Either someone was going to die or someone was going to come very close to it and Wilford had no grasp on the concept of death, he needed someone else there to clean up the mess and make sure he didn’t go insane or at least more insane than what he already was. “You told us to report to you when that happens, right?” Jim’s question was ignored as Dark felt out of his body, slowly stretching further and further away until he found Wilford’s aurora. The strong scent of bubblegum and gunpowder filled his nose before Dark suddenly vanished. 

“Hey, buddy. There’s no need to get violent...yet.” Dark heard Wilford chuckle. He found himself at the edge of an empty warehouse. 

“How the fuck did you get in here!?” A man screamed.

“Just give me my-”

“Don’t take another step!” Dark turned around and saw that a group of men was standing in front of Wilford, the one in front holding a gun towards Wilford. Pointing  _ his  _ gun at him. Dark didn’t have time to question how that happened before he started heading over to the others. 

“Who are you!?” The man was now aiming the gun at Dark. A large smirk played on Dark’s lips, he was excited to see that man’s face when he tore that gun out of his hands. The horror in his eyes as he held him in the air by his neck, cutting off his ability to breathe and forcing him to try to claw Dark’s hand away and kick his legs out in a helpless fight. 

“Now, don’t you be pointing that at my friend. That’s-” 

Everything stopped when the loud bang of the gun filled the air. Everything went quiet as Wilford fell towards the ground. Everything moved slowly when Wilford landed, blood splattering. A silent scream came out of Dark’s mouth as he sprinted over to Wilford. His heart raced. His chest ached. His head wailed as he felt a strong urge to vomit. What was this? What was this terrible feeling? Why did it hurt so much?

_ Fear _ . 

Dark was scared. He was terrified. His very soul was crying out as he reached the only person he truly called ‘friend’. Dark fell to his knees, seeing the hole below Wilford’s collarbone. Dark could tell that tears were threatening to fall when Wilford mouthed his name, attempting to lift his hand, but failing. Dark hated this emotion. This emotion hurt. He hated it so much. 

Dark quickly pressed his hands on to the wound. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. Wilford did not get hurt. Wilford did not get shot. This isn’t real. It can’t be. This has to be a lie. Dark swallowed thickly before sliding his hands away, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw that the hole was closed. He had never been so thankful for his magical abilities. 

“I shot him! Holy fuck I shot him!” The man’s cries broke Dark away from his fear. Something else began to take over. A strong burning filled his entire body. Boiling in the pit of his stomach and flowing up through his throat and into his head. Dark slowly stood and faced the group of men. This emotion he knew. This emotion he understood. This emotion he was all too glad to work with. 

_ Anger. _

“You have made the worst mistake of your lives,” Dark said, voice becoming distorted. His aura began to grow, the red engulfing the blue, stretching out to form its own tendrils.  _ “A _ **_N_ ** _ d  _ **_Y_ ** _ o _ **_U_ ** _ r  _ **_L_ ** _ a _ **_S_ ** _ t.”  _ Dark didn’t usually like to get his hands dirty but he easily willing to go against that. He was excited to. The red aura started to shadow over the now screaming men. They took off towards the exit, screaming, even more, when Dark was suddenly in front of them, cutting them off. They turned around and ran to only be cut off again, the aura now completely covering them. One tried to push through the aura but cried out when it burned his hand. Dark slowly walked towards the man who fired the gun. He was now sobbing, filled with the fear Dark had just felt.  _ Good _ .

“No, no!” The man wailed as Dark reached for him. “I don’t wanna die!” He pleaded as he was grabbed by the throat and lifted into the air. Dark felt a rush of adrenaline coursed through him. Dark was getting what he wanted. The man cried and begged for something he was not going to keep. He was going to lose something he could not get back. 

_ “And my friend didn’t want to be  _ **_shot_ ** _ ,”  _ Dark emphasized the last word by punching his hand through the man’s stomach. Dark usually hated the feeling of blood on his hands. He was more of a man of words. He wanted them to control the people, to make them do whatever he wanted and would send others to end them but at the moment. The blood felt lovely on his skin. 

“D...Dark.” The weak call of his name snapped Dark out of his craze. He dropped the dying man to the ground. The aurora falling at the same pace as the body. “Dark.” 

“Wilford.” Dark rushed over to Wilford, quickly scooping him up into his arms. 

“Dark...I-”

“Hush.” Was all Dark said before vanishing, leaving the men trapped in the warehouse since he took the ability to open the door or break the windows away. 

Dark landed in the center of their kitchen, scaring Bim enough to make him toss his mug into the air, the shattering glass scaring him even more. 

“Dark?”

“Get Dr. Iplier, right now and send him to Wilford’s room,” Dark ordered, sounding calmer than he felt as he walked away from the stunned show host. 

“Can we help?” The Jims asked as they followed Dark. 

“Water,” Dark stated, hearing the twins repeat the word and run off. Dark used his foot to open Wilford’s door, the bright pink was a startling contrast to the dark hallway, but Dark was used to it at this point and he laid Wilford down on his bed, adjusting the pillows to make sure that the man was comfortable. He gently removed Wilford’s bowtie and sat it on his bedside table before unbuttoning the yellow top, removing it from the man’s body so he could get a better look at the wound. It was still closed. Dark ran a thumb over it to make sure before going down to Wilford’s feet and removing his shoes, setting them neatly together at the end of the bed. 

“How is everything?” Dr. Iplier asked as he entered the room, holding a bucket filled with water and multiple rags. 

“The wound is closed, but he lost a lot of blood,” Dark answered, stepping back to give the doctor space as he placed his fingers on Wilford’s neck.

“Water!” The Jims yelled, holding five glasses of water each. 

“Thank you Jims, set them on the desk please.” Dr. Iplier said after he sat down and dipped one of the rags into the bucket.

“Do you need anything else?” Reporter Jim asked. 

“We’re all good here, thank you again.” Dr. Iplier strung out any extra water and began cleaning off the blood while the Jims nodded happily and left. “Eccentric boys, aren’t they?” Dr. Iplier chuckled softly, glancing a look over at Dark, seeing the blood that was starting to dry. “Are you injured as well? Or does that belong to another?” 

“I’m fine,” Dark said, voice soft and monotoned. 

“Do you need to talk? You sound off.” Dr. Iplier lifted Wilford’s arm, wiping the rag down the man’s side.  

“I’m fine.” Dark repeated in the same tone. 

“I might be a terrible doctor, but I’m a great listener.” Dr. Iplier joked, getting a new rag and wetting it as well. 

“You’ve improved,” Dark commented. 

“I can thank you for that. I think the bruise on my wrist is still there from you.” Dr. Iplier laughed at the memory. “I didn’t expect you to get so angry when is misdiagnosed Wilford with the common cold instead of pneumonia.” Dr. Iplier sat the wet rag down and took a dry one. “It’s almost as if you care for the man.” The doctor teased the demon, giving him a wink. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Yeah, sure you don’t.” Dr. Iplier clicked his tongue and stood up. “His pulse is even, there’s wasn’t too much blood compared with what has been lost in the past. He’ll be fine. No need to worry.” 

“I’m not-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dr. Iplier waved his hand as he left, closing the door behind him. 

Dark let out a huff before taking the desk’s chair and setting it next to the bed, taking a seat and watching Wilford. Was he worried? Did he really care about Wilford? Dark didn’t care about anyone, that’s how he worked, that’s how he got things done. But to feet fear when he believed Wilford to be gone? To have pure anger in him towards the one who caused Wilford pain? He’s has been known to be protective of Wilford, to go out of his way to make sure the other man was okay. But that was just because of, what others called, their friendship. Dark wasn’t entirely sure what they were. He remembered referring to Wilford as his friend when he got shot but that was most likely just the heat of the moment. Right? 

Dark looked at Wilford’s face and saw that a stray hair was on it. Dark unconsciously leaned over and brushed it aside, hand pausing to feel the warmth of Wilford’s cheek. A similar warmth, one that has kept bothering him, formed in his stomach. What was this? What was this strange feeling of something fluttering inside of him? Dark couldn’t prevent a small smile from forming as Wilford hummed softly and shifted his head to it was now being cradled by Dark’s hand. 

_ Joy. _

Dark quickly snatched his hand back and fully sat back down in the chair. Why did he get so happy? How did that make any sense? He was not a happy person. He did not get happy. Why did Wilford doing something as simple as that fill him with joy? Dark noticed that his face was heating up. He wasn’t embarrassed. There was no need to. What else could cause a heat to the face? 

Wilford’s hand twitching caught his attention. Dark had a sudden urge to hold it and he gave in without much resistance. It was just a hand. It meant nothing. He started off by just resting his fingertips on top of Wilford’s palm, slowly moving them and feeling every line and the smooth and soft texture of it. He then slowly and gently wrapped his finger around the hand, his thumb rubbing against Wilford’s wrist. More heat began building up. But it wasn’t the heat Dark was used to associating with the emotions he’s been able to name. Anger had a heat to it, but that heat was harsh, it burned, it fueled him to act out. This heat was...pleasurable? It felt good to have this heat. He’s had little doses of it before and he just assumed that is was nothing, that it was just his body adjusting to the room’s temperature or something. Why did it only happen when Wilford was around then? That question made several different emotions flow through Dark.

_ Care. _

_ Affection _ .

_ Joy. _

_ Desire. _

_ L- _

Dark felt his body become even warmer when he finally realized what emotion that heat was attached to. But it couldn’t be. There was no way that it was that. He could never feel that emotion. Even though he believed those other emotions were impossible for him as well but here he was, feeling all of them at once as he looked at the man next to him. Dark felt the words bubbling up in his throat and they escaped before he could stop them. 

“I love you.” Dark froze when he saw Wilford smile. 

“I know.” 

“Wil!” Dark stood up when the man spoke. 

“Hey, buddy.” Wilford greeted, voice a little hoarse. “Took you long enough to admit it.” Wilford swallowed at Dark just stared in shock. “You mind getting me one of those glasses of water?”

“You knew!?” Dark finally snapped now knowing what first-hand embarrassment felt like. 

“I mean, sort of.” Wilford cleared his throat. “I had a feeling that you at least liked me a little. Wasn’t expecting you to spill your guts out to me on my deathbed though.” Wilford chuckled weakly. “But seriously, some water would be great.” 

“I’m assuming Wilford is awake?” Dr. Iplier asked as he opened the door. “Is everything fine?” 

“Yep. Dark’s my boyfriend now and I would really like some water.” Wilford’s statement was answered with sputters from Dark and a laugh from Dr. Iplier as he fetched one of the glasses and handed it to Wilford. 

“Thanks.” Wilford downed the entire glass, letting out an ‘ah’ when he finished. Dr. Iplier took the glass, checked Wilford’s pulse again and smiled.

“Call me if you need anything.” Dr. Iplier said before stepping back out. 

“So, wanna hear how I ended up there?” Wilford asked and Dark sat back down. 

“But-” Dark stopped when Wilford took his hand.

“You’re my demon boyfriend and as my demon boyfriend, you have to listen to my stories.” Dark opened his mouth to protest but stopped when Wilford began telling his tale anyways. He just settled down and listened to his friend...boyfriend talk. The warmth staying in his chest and he no longer questioned it. Knowing what it was and never wanting it to go away. 


End file.
